


Demons and Daggers

by tragedybunny



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragedybunny/pseuds/tragedybunny
Summary: A collection of erotic fics mostly centering around Swain and Katarina. Will be updated as inspired.
Relationships: Katarina Du Couteau/Jericho Swain
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Touch of the Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katarina wants to see exactly what the demon can do and Swain obliges.

“No, we are absolutely not doing this. That is final.” He sounds like he’s talking to an obstinate child. I let him bluster for a moment. 

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine.” I wheedle, it usually gets me my way. “I just want to try once.” I turn my head to gaze up at him from where I’m seated between his legs and tangled up in his arms. “Please?” I let my voice drop to a sensual whisper against his ear and nip the lobe, knowing it drives him mad. 

He inhales sharply and yanks me even tighter against him, his hard cock pressing into my back. He thrusts against me roughly but I know it’s doing nothing to relive that need coursing through him. “I have killed people with this hand. It is not going inside you.” He forces the words out after a moment of hesitation that tells me his resolve is wavering. I fight back a triumphant smile, this is all going to plan. A week ago I was seized by this desperate yearning, a curiosity that demanded to be sated. I needed to know what he could do with that hand, what it would feel like to be fucked with it. I tried to let it go when he first told me no, but now it was all I could think about. So I lured him to bed with sunset burning off the heat of the day, stripped us both down, and mercilessly kissed and caressed every spot that I knew would wind him so tight he would break. I have no intention of sating his desires until he complies with mine. 

“And yet here we are and it is wrapped around my waist at this very moment.” I gesture down to where it sits, crimson against my pale skin, leaving a red hue to the tattoo covering my side. “It is perfectly controllable.” I start to trail feather soft kisses down his neck toward his chest. He really shouldn’t be surprised, I’m not one to be dissuaded by fear. 

He moans softly as I run my tongue over his nipple. “But. I. Really.” Another soft moan and I stop to let him finish. “Don’t want to hurt you.” 

He has his moments of being wonderfully sweet, even if he is irritating me with it at the moment. I change tactics and wrap my arms around him, head leaning against his chest. “Jericho, I love you and I trust you. Now trust me, I’ll tell you if it goes wrong.” 

He kisses the top of my head and I feel his posture relax. I know I’ve won before he even speaks. “Fine, there’s no dissuading you, but I want it to be a matter of record that I still think this is a terrible idea.” 

“Your objection has been duly noted.” I feel his hand leave my waist, spectral fingers trailing lightly across my skin as they make their way between my thighs. My blood thunders in my veins and my breath catches in my throat leaving me giddy with anticipation. My thighs part at the barest prompting, obedient to his touch as ever, leaving me open and unfettered for him. One unnatural finger caresses the sensitive bud between my legs, sending shivers through me as it leaves a tingling in its wake. He teases me, soft little circles, the warmth of it adding a curious dimension to the pressure of his finger. I whimper, desperate for more. 

“Are you getting a little bothered Kitten?” His throaty voice tickles my ear and I feel him thrust against me again. Despite his objections, he can’t resist tormenting me. In answer, I buck my hips toward his hand. “Patience love.” 

A few more of those torturous circles and I feel his finger positioned at my entrance. Ever so slowly, he pushes inside me. I gasp at a sensation like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The arcane power sparking through those fingers and the warmth they emanate sends pleasure radiating through me, reducing me to a quivering mess in his arms. “Oh, gods.” I can barely breathe. 

“You’re such an excitable little thing.” He growls and another finger enters me, heightening the sweet torment I’m being filled with. “Even like this, I can feel that you’re soaking wet.” 

I feel myself flush, he always has to point out what he does to me. I open my mouth to retort, but I’m cut off as he begins to move inside me, my words dissipating. My breath becomes ragged as waves of bliss wash over me. As he brings me closer to the edge, my head lolls back against his chest, holding it up seeming too much of a burden. “That’s it darling, let go.” 

I obey and let the euphoria begin to carry me away. His thumb returns to my clit, pressing it firmly in rhythm with his fingers inside me, that energy now pulsing through every one of my most sensitive areas. His other hand grasps one of my nipples, rolling it between his fingers mercilessly. The world around me begins to blur and my thoughts cease to be. There’s only the feeling of what he’s doing to me, the mounting pressure, and the maddening sensations. “Jericho.” His name is a prayer upon my lips. 

“Come for me, Kitten.” Not just his words command me, but the storm of passion my body has become and the firm stroke of his thumb on that over-sensitive little nub. I go over the edge and it feels like lightning explodes inside me. I cry out as I feel myself contracting around him, sending further pulses of ecstasy through me. 

He’s not done though, his movements continuing on, wringing pleasure from me until I can’t move. Behind the fog in my mind, a new feeling surfaces, warmth building to discomfort. I yelp as it suddenly stings, bringing me crashing back to reality. With astounding swiftness, he removes his hand. “What happened?”

I can see it, glowing and crackling with that arcane power, his control of it lost for the merest moment. “Nothing.” He glares at me, I did promise. “It stung a little.” 

He sighs. “I told you this would happen.” 

“Mmm, worth it. That was glorious.” I snuggle against him. 

His arms encircle me, a hand resting on my back, his love something I can feel in the air. “Well, we’re never doing it again.” 

I tilt my head up and kiss that spot just under his ear where his jaw meets his throat, another of his little weaknesses. I’m rewarded with a soft gasp. “Tell me that again when I’m done with you.”


	2. The Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU - ish fic where Katarina initiates a scheme to get away from her family just before the invasion of Ionia.

Father is prattling on in his usual grandiose manner, candlelight playing off the fork he is gesturing with. By his side, shifting my weight in the uncomfortably ancient chair, I fix a serious expression on my face and pretend to be deeply invested. Truthfully, what he’s saying should have my full attention, he’s speaking on the invasion of Ionia, a matter that’s likely to involve the three of us present. I can’t seem to bring myself to care though. He has been even more irritatingly overbearing since we were recalled to the Capitol from Shurima. I know something has provoked him to watchful suspicion, but once again, he doesn’t believe it is my place to be involved. I should just be a good girl and stab who I’m told to. He never ceases to condescend toward me. The plan that I have for this evening will change that though. 

From across the lavishly set table, our host interrupts. “You’re too cautious Markus. It will take nothing to defeat these disorganized, primitive, superstitious, farmers.” The deep, rich tone of his voice causes a shiver to cascade down my spine, perhaps it’s the slightest hint of something cold and unyielding beneath it. “Do you not agree, Katarina?” 

His eyes catch mine across the table, a self-satisfied smirk on his features. “I...well...it is not my place General.” I turn my attention back to poking at my roast squab and desperately hope that satisfies them both. 

“Pity. I was sure you would be on my side.” Now that grin takes on a predatory feel. 

“Don’t tease her Jericho.” Father practically growls. Old friends or not, I have the feeling aggression is not a tactic General Swain will respond well to. 

He rolls his eyes, dismissing outright the act of bravado. “I wasn’t teasing. She’s supposed to be your heir. I am genuinely interested in her thoughts.” 

“She can have thoughts on such matters when she’s proven herself in the field.” That is the source of my problems, I haven’t had a true kill, a real target. I have taken lives, traitors and deserters spoon-fed to us so we would know the feeling of taking a life. Father uses it as his excuse to continue to treat me like a child, a condition that has only worsened since Mother almost died. He’s stifling me and I cannot endure it. 

The General simply shrugs, leaving the conversation behind before it can become an argument. “Tell me how Shurmia has been treating you.” 

Dinner drags on and Father continues to keep me on the fringes, not allowing me more than a few words here or there. I end up letting my mind wander and only hearing snippets of what they’re discussing. “This is all very generous of you Jericho. Isn’t it Katarina?” Eyes wide, I finally look up, fork full of tart. I missed something. “By the Wolf’s maw girl! Are you incapable of paying attention? Thank General Swain for his hospitality.” 

Inwardly I seethe with the reprimand. “Thank you for being a most gracious host.” Our journey back to the Capital had been somewhat secret, another aspect of this paranoia. It meant our house and servants were unprepared for our return; our rooms still shut up and the larders nearly empty. Thankfully Father’s old friend had invited us to dinner and suggested we stay the night. He’d been one of the few to have been informed prior to our arrival. 

It had been years since I’d seen him, I was still very much a child when we left for Shurima. Once we were shown in by a servant, I felt my breath catch in my throat at his appearance. Dark, intelligent eyes were set sharp, proud features; long black hair flowed over his shoulders. His whole bearing was one of a man who knew power and control were his. Perhaps I would’ve acted even without my plot. 

“You are most welcome. Now, I believe we will have an early morning tomorrow. Grand General Darkwill has summoned all of High Command for the War Council.” I rise in unison with him and Father, following as they make their way upstairs. 

I steel my nerves for what lies ahead, the chance I’ll take to free myself of Father’s control, and make my life my own. As we walk down the darkened halls of the upper floor of the manor, I mark the door General Swain enters after some last few words between the two of them. We continue toward a set of rooms we were shown earlier in the evening. "Good night Father," I say blandly, playing the obedient child. Pushing through the door, I turn and quickly lean back against it to listen for the sign he has actually retired for the evening. A creak and soft thud tell me when he enters. I wait a breath, two, ten, until I’m satisfied I won’t be caught. The risk is low enough, he’ll want to be well rested to face the War Council tomorrow. 

Rifling through the bags that were brought with us, I dig until I find my it, a piece stolen from Mother’s closet for the thrill of it. Haste is required, I quickly discard the day’s clothes and slip on the nightgown of midnight silk. Stopping before the mirror, I brush the tangles from my red locks, hoping I look at least something akin to desirable, and tie a robe around me. At the door, I hesitate, not just waiting and listening, a moment of doubt sinks in. Am I really going through with this? No sound can be discerned and I fortify my nerves, finding the courage of a true Noxian to push onward. In my heart, I know this is the only way to secure my freedom. Slipping into the darkened hall I shut the door silently behind me. 

Creeping through the shadows, hoping my “target” has yet to sleep, I rely on the stealth that has been drilled into me for years. From one end of the hall to the next, no sound escapes me as I weave in and out of the deepest bits of darkness. When I reach his rooms, I hear the telltale sound of a door opening and soft footfalls echoing in the emptiness behind me. If it is Father he’ll not look upon this kindly. Before I can overthink, and momentarily feeling a hint of panic, I charge through the door. 

I stand staring after securing it and feel the rapid beating of my heart begin to calm. It stirs again when I glance to the side and realize I’m standing in General Swain’s private parlor. I stop breathing, this was a mistake. I should retreat now, tail between my legs, and admit defeat. “Is there something I can help you with, Katarina?” 

My body freezes as that commanding voice comes from directly behind me. I’d been distracted and hadn’t heard him, it’s an affront to all my training. Now there is truly no going back. I turn to face him and try to gather up something resembling confidence. “Actually, yes. If you have a moment that is.”

“Hmm.” He studies me for a brief second, his gaze giving me the uncomfortable impression he can read my mind. With no more words, just a gesture of his hand, he beckons me to follow him into the adjoining bedchamber. No sooner are we in that inner room than he slides a bolt into place on the door, a noise that sets fire to my already frayed nerves, and turns to face me. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he exudes thinning patience. “Well, go on. What thought emboldens you to sneak about my home in the middle of the night.” 

I draw a breath, the only delay I can allow myself. “I have come to a realization that we both have a problem that the other might solve. My Father has become increasingly overbearing and controlling, I must be rid of him. It has not escaped my notice that despite your wealth and status, you lack a spouse and an heir.” Will he hear my pulse still thundering away in my veins, will he see me gasping for breath?

Fingers now steepled in front of him, lightly tapping against his chin, his gaze never waivers. Though I see the impatience has vanished. “And how do you propose we solve these pressing issues?” 

“We marry. You will get a wife fitting to your station, with other talents you can take advantage of, who will provide you with heirs. I will get the freedom that I desire.” If fate is kind, there is no scarlet flush creeping over my face. I doubt that though. 

“You offer up your talents, yet you are an unproven assassin with not a single kill to her name.” He scoffs. 

“That will change soon enough.” My confidence is wilting but I hold firm, keeping my eyes up. 

He closes in on me, and despite my grandiose plot, I suddenly feel very much like a lamb left to the mercy of a wolf. “And what if your family were to refuse us?”

“When you return victorious from Ionia, no one will dare refuse you anything.” A bit of flattery can’t harm anything.

The last of the space between us vanishes and I can the feel warmth of his body against my skin. An arm around my waist, pressed against my back, prevents me from retreating. With his other hand, he grips my chin forcefully, ensuring I have nowhere to look but into those fathomless black eyes. My breath catches in my throat, it is a cruelty of fate that he is both exceptionally alluring and intimidating. “And you’re confident in the conclusion of this little scheme you’ve so brazenly concocted?” 

Of course, I’m not. This mad notion seized me on the journey here as I was rocked to sleep by the ocean one night after learning who was expecting us upon our arrival. Those close quarters with Father, enduring hours with him and no one else, I knew I needed a way out. The General would be one of the few who would be hard to refuse if they pressed for a union with me. So here I am, clad in a stolen nightgown, proposing marriage to a man twice my age. “Absolutely.” 

He lets go of my chin. “A point of clarification, though I have no desire to control your every moment, when I do give you an order, I expect your obedience.” I swallow harshly and nod. He takes a step back, finally freeing me. The relief that washes over me is short-lived. “Take off your robe.” A moment of hesitation and I obey, letting it pool on the ground at my feet. “Now the nightgown.” I gape, losing my senses for a moment, my chest tightening, my breath stopping. His impassive demeanor gives way to sternness at the delay. “I wish to see what exactly I am getting in the bargain.” Am I so naive, that I didn’t predict this? With rising dread, I push it off my shoulders and it joins the robe. My arms move to cover myself but he insistently pushes them back to my sides. “None of that.” 

Circling around me, I feel his eyes roving over me, inspecting me like I’m one of his soldiers. His hand grazes the small of my back traveling down to the top of my thigh and returning, squeezing one of my cheeks hard enough that I reflexively jerk forward. A quiet noise escapes him that I believe is a stifled laugh. Facing me again, he roughly grasps one of my breasts, a thumb brushing over the nipple, before releasing it. I whimper, from desire or fear I’m not really sure. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you.” Amusement creeps into his tone, and I drop my eyes to the floor. “Hmm, I do believe I find this proposal of yours quite agreeable.” I did it, I won him over. I start to smile very slightly when both hands roughly grip my face and I’m forced to look at him again. “Understand me clearly though, Katarina, from this moment onwards you belong to me alone.” His lips roughly claim mine, his tongue forcefully finding its way between them, leaving me gasping for air and shaken, when he pulls away. “I believe we should celebrate our agreement.” He begins to undo the buttons of his shirt, leaving my pulse thundering in my veins as I try to keep myself breathing normally. I have miscalculated this whole plot so badly and failed to see the logical conclusion. I can’t back out though, it’s far too late and I still have no other options. What will I do if he notices how childish I’m being and guesses the truth? 

“Come here.” He grasps my hands and brings them to the front of his trousers, wordlessly commanding me. Fingers dig into my hips as his lips leave a burning trail down my neck. A tiny moan escapes me as I feel his teeth dig into me, a warmth that is decidedly not an embarrassed flush spreads from my stomach down between my thighs. “That’s right, let yourself go.” He breathes into my ear, now as bare as I am. 

For a moment I drink in the sight of him, the lean muscle of a soldier, the scars of battles past adorning his skin, and his desire plainly evident. A thrill courses through my nerves, he wants me. Another unconsidered factor, the previously unknown feeling settling a pleasant sort of haze around my thoughts. I’m still wrapping myself around that when he scoops my legs out from under me and starts toward the bed. My arm wraps around his neck as I find my balance, another kiss takes my breath away. He settles us on the edge of the bed, holding me steady in his lap, and continues his exploration. His lips start back at my neck, working their way down until I feel the sharp sensation of his teeth digging into me. I hiss and arch into him, trying to sort pain from pleasure. I’ve lost myself in the fire that’s burning through me as we trade caresses and kisses, the feel of his skin against mine like an intoxicant. All the fear comes crashing back as I feel his hand moving between my thighs, dangerously close to my sex. 

Reflexively, I try to close my legs in my panic, but he nudges them apart. The feeling of his finger teasing at my entrance causes me to jerk back as though burnt. He stops but lets out of a sigh. “Let me guess, you are still ‘untried’ as it were.” 

My gaze finds an interesting spot on the floor. “Yes,” I mumble, feeling like a child caught in a lie. There’s no doubt about the crimson tinge creeping over my skin this time. I can’t bear to look up and see the derision and mockery in his eyes. 

“Do you wish me to stop? Or shall I be a tad more delicate with you?” I can’t comprehend it, this moment of sudden gentleness. His soft voice and a feather-light kiss on my cheek leaving me insensible for a moment. 

A feeling of safety settles around me as I recover my wits, and that pleasant heat from earlier is returning, even more fierce than before. “Don’t stop.” I breathe out. “Teach me.” I finally look up, only to find myself in another deep kiss that steals my senses from me. A soft moan escapes him as I dig my nails into his shoulder in an attempt to keep myself grounded. 

I don’t shy away this time as his hand parts my legs. A lone finger caresses me, finding that sensitive, hidden little bud and gently stroking it. A whimper escapes me at the pleasure of this touch and I find myself nearly shaking in his arms. He penetrates me, still applying that same sweet pleasure with his thumb. There’s a moment of anxiety that bleeds into bliss as his fingers work inside me. 

I’m no stranger to caring for myself in this manner, but the touch of a flesh and blood lover is entirely different. I should be embarrassed at the sounds that issue from me, but all I can feel is a rising fire, his sweet touch, and a need I didn't know I had. Relentlessly he moves inside me until I feel myself letting go. “Come for me.” He orders and I obey, losing myself in the exhilaration that rolls over me. “Good girl. Go lay down.” 

Nervously, I slide from his lap and lay back against the pillows, my pulse now an insistent ringing in my ears. His hands firmly grip my hips as he kneels between my legs, an expression on his face that I can’t name but almost seems tender. “You really are quite lovely.” He leans down, lips brushing against mine once again, the press of his hardness against me a source of bittersweet anticipation. One quick thrust and he’s inside me. I hiss at the pain and he stills himself, letting my body accommodate him. 

Arms wrap around him, nails digging into his back, as he begins to move. Each thrust slow and measured, the sting begins to fade, mounting euphoria replacing it. My lips and teeth rove over his neck, down to his collarbone, little red marks blossoming in my wake, drawing a deep moan from him. “Jericho.” I breathlessly call his name as I feel myself building back to the edge of that glorious precipice. 

As though spurred on by the sound of his name, his pace increases relentlessly. Breath coming in gasps, I cling to him tighter. “Katarina,” he growls. And as though commanded, I am driven over the edge, ecstasy bursting forth, tearing a cry from me. He keeps going his movements wringing small sparks of pleasure that pile one on top of another until I feel drunk on them. Tightening his grip, he drives deep inside me one last time, and I feel myself being filled with his release.

When he withdraws to sit next to me, I find myself able to breathe again. “Well, it would seem you do have a few talents I could make use of.” He smirks at me. 

For what must be the dozenth time that night, I feel myself blushing, lost in awkwardness once more. “I should go.” I sit up, trying to recall where my clothing went. Just as quickly though, I’m pulled back down, until we're lying next to one another. 

He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I did say you were mine from now on didn’t I?” His fingers trace a line down my cheek. “Stay, talk to me, let me know you.” I open my mouth to protest but I’m cut off. “Don’t worry, I’ll ensure Markus doesn’t find out.” 

It’s not a request, it is an order, even if it lacks a stern note. The notion of safety is dissolving into doubt, but I have gone too far to turn back. I let myself relax, enclosed by his arms, or perhaps caged by them. The distinction matters not. “If you insist.” His hand moves to trace his fingers down my spine, something almost akin to triumph in his eyes. “What do you wish to know.”


End file.
